


Wash Away My Sins

by SharkandAwe



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Minor Violence, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 12:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15194777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkandAwe/pseuds/SharkandAwe
Summary: After a day working on the farm, it's time for The Hillbilly to prepare for his duties serving the entity. Part of his routine is a few stolen moments with his beautiful botanist.Written because claudette/hillbilly needs love, and I believe that Billy loves baths.





	Wash Away My Sins

**Author's Note:**

> While there is a bathtub scene between our billy and botanist it's pretty PG, more focused on their relationship and interactions. 
> 
> Some violence mentioned but nothing extreme...just usual dbd stuff.  
> unedited for the moment, please excuse any mistakes.

Another day had come to an end. The sun was edging ever closer to the mountain range in the distance. Trudging footsteps met the old wooden steps of his home with a harsh clank as the spikes protruding from the soles of his boots hit the rotting planks.

 

Eyes downcast, he enters what was once an impeccable ivory and peach dining room, opulently decorated with golden china, and cherub paintings. His mother had taken great pride in this room. He remembers pressing his ears against the brick walls catching whatever voices he could during his parents lavish dinner parties. Mother would always point out the family heirlooms, and the thick shiny drapes, whose fabric had been brought over from the far east.

 

He wishes she could see it now. Peeling yellowed paint, cracked floorboards, and the remains of a once grand table, now pushed off to the side, it's only use is to serve as kindling to stave away the darkness. He pushes all thoughts of the wretched woman to the back of his mind as he makes his way to the second floor of the home.

 

The sweltering heat of the day had left his body caked in sweat, along with dirt and grime from spending the day tending to the tractor. While he loved to tinker with the machines, and roam what small part of his family's land had been carved away for him, he did not enjoy being dirty. He needed to prepare for the night.

 

He kicked off his boots before crossing the splintered doorway of the bathroom. The shuttered windows and attached balcony door had already been opened to let what little breeze the evening had brought come through. He was careful as he peeled away his once white T-shirt. His sores had weeped and dried during the day, causing the material to stick to his skin, and reopen the sores as the fabric was pulled away. His jeans came off slowly as well, watching not to catch any of the staples holding his wounds closed against the denim material.

 

When he was finally bare, he made his way to the brass claw foot tub in the center of the room, steam rising from the clear water. The outside of the tub had begun to turn a sickly green with age, but the inside stilled gleamed like new copper, he treasured this tub almost as much as his tools.

 

During the dark times, before he had seen the sun, there was nothing but brick, and stale food if someone remembered. The dust and mold of the closed off room would settle in the folds of his skin, causing it to burn and smell in the worst of ways. When he had finally broken through to the light, after his work was done, and their blood was congealed, he took his first bath, feeling some stinging relief for the first time in his life.

 

In one swift motion he had settled himself into the tub, bringing his knees up to his chest as the water finished sloshing over the edges. He sat still as death for sometime, letting the warm water ease away the tension in his crooked body. Head falling back, he willed his eyes open just enough to see the false sun begin to drop behind the mountains.

 

_**Creakkkk** _

A long drawn out whine from the skeletal house, he kept his gaze on the setting sun.

 

“I see the tractor hasn’t moved since the other day” a soft, rich voice like caramel.

 

_"Mmm”_ he managed through closed lips.

A moth eaten rag swirls in the water before settling on his chest, as his guest sits on a stool just behind him. He lets his head loll back, neck resting on cool brass, head resting on a soft chest, the smell of herbs and spice finding their way to his deformed nose.

 

“Not for lack of trying, I'm sure” playfull, comforting words, he could hear the smile in her voice.

 

_“I try”_ he manages to rasp out _“Tomorrow try more”_

A low hum lets him know she agrees, tomorrow he’ll surely fix it.

 

The cloth gently glides over his chest, making its way to a knotted shoulder. She is careful to gently pull the skin back and pass the cloth through the folds, ridding him of the built up oils and debris from the day. A rumbling coo escapes his throat at the gentle treatment. He can feel the ample chest behind him jump slightly as she chuckles. Her hand slips back ever so slightly, catching on the coarse hair that sprouts from his shoulder and neck.

 

Before he realizes it, his gnarled hand has shot out of the water to grab her bronzed one. A quick intake of breath is her only reaction as she lets the tense moment pass.

 

_“Don’t”_   he croaks _“please”_

 

“Its ok-”

 

_“_ _DON’T!”_ a yell that would have once scared her, sent her running and screaming. Now she knows better. This is pain, a pain she caused him…

 

“Billy...please. I’m sorry. That was before...I know better now. Let me be better...for you”.

 

The killers heart clenched at the sound of her pleading voice

 

_“Dette...s’okay…”_ he tries to reassure her, to get things back to how they were a few moments ago.Her hand was still in his, though the grip had lessened. With her other hand she removed her glasses before resting her face against his shoulder.

 

His breath hitches. His body tense. In the beginning she had fought him tooth and nail, running, hiding, and surviving. She was ashamed to admit it, but she didn’t notice it at first. They way he’d never use the chainsaw against her, how he’d smash his mallet against the meat of her thigh knocking her down, rather than bashing her skull in. He’d rarely hook her, often leaving her on the ground to crawl to either her comrades or to the hatch. She remembers one of the few times he had put her on the hook, the memory bringing tears to her eyes.

 

……………………………………………………………

 

The ground had rushed up to meet her, splitting her chin open and covering her in dirt that smelled strangely of copper. Without missing a beat she began trying to crawl away using her elbows to get momentum, her right side searing from the mallet hit. It was no use.

 

She felt a thick, malformed hand grab her by the waistband of her pants and lift her up into the air before settling her on his shoulder. She instantly began to flail her arms, trying to throw off his balance and possibly get a decent hit on him. The Hillbilly began walking towards the edge of the farm, behind some wooden barricades, where a hook was most likely nestled, far away from her teammates.

 

His grip on her waist didn’t waiver, and so in a last minute effort she hoped to use both hands to push off his shoulders and hopefully be able to sprint behind him while he gathered his bearings.

 

One hand gripped twisted, leather like skin, the other met coarse unnatural prickles whose feeling made her shriek in horror, thinking at first she had touched some kind of hairy arachnid, and not a man.

 

What all her struggling and hits could not accomplish, her horror stricken wail managed, as The Hillbilly was taken by surprise and quickly dropped her. She hit the ground running, cradling the hand which had touched his hair as if it had been wounded, the scratchy sensation burned into her memory making her inwardly cringe.

 

Behind her she could hear a garbled bellow of frustration from the deformed man, followed by his pounding footsteps, which reached her far too quickly. Claudette saw an opening in the barricade she could vault through, but quickly changed direction at the last minute to try and confuse her pursuer. It didn’t work. A blood stained mallet hit the Wooden structure mere inches from her face, stopping her in her tracks, his other hand slapping the frame to trap her between his twisted body and the wall behind her. The Hillbilly’s breathing was heavy, his beady eyes staring down at her through folded lids. Claudette’s gaze briefly went to his shoulder where the greasy, dark tendrils sprouted like an infection, she closed her eyes as the sight made her stomach roll. A hitch in the Hillbilly’s breathing, a pause that stretched longer than it should have. The young botanist was about to open her eyes to see what the hell was wrong with this killer, but the silence was broken as the last generator roared to life, and the exit gates rang out, giving away their location.

 

She thought she could see frustration steal across his face, but she would later reflect on this moment and realize it was panic. He placed his mallet back in his belt loop before wrapping an arm around her, and once again hoisting her onto his shoulder, mercifully not the one which made her feel ill from the sight.

 

Claudette didn’t struggle as he brought her back to the far off corner from before. She had heard the buzzer, indicating her friends were going to get the door open, and it brought her some peace. Everyone will make it, and while the pain and dread that always came with the hook scared her, she knew it was temporary. She’d see her friends and the campfire soon enough.

 

Again she screamed, this time from the rusted hook splitting through her to hold her dead weight above the ground. The killer didn’t try to go to the door, he didn’t care, he was going to secure at least one kill it seemed.

 

As the seconds ticked by, Claudette tried to move as little as possible, so to not aggravate the wound. The Hillbilly never took his eyes off of her, even as he began shedding off his shredded T-shirt.

 

“What are you...you have me...Im not struggling. Just..let me go” she implored weakly, heartbeat racing as more malformed skin was exposed. A grunt was her response.

 

The Hillbilly took the tattered remains of his shirt and draped it over his hairy shoulder, the one she found so repulsive. When he had wrapped it securely so it covered as much as it could he leveled an unsure look at her. Was he...was he expecting her approval?

 

One step forward, then another, and another. He was so close if she took too big a breath she’d brush up against his bare chest. He smelt of cedarwood and gasoline.

 

Tears rolled down her face as up above the sky began to darken and swirl, signaling the entity’s approach to claim her.

 

“What do you want from me? Please I don't understand. I’m hooked. Im done. Leave me alone!” she pleaded.

A crackling whoosh of breath from the twisted man...a sigh? Before the botanist could question it, he leaned his forehead against her stomach, and wrapped his arms around her hips, as she dangled from the hook. Insectoid legs began sprouting from the ground, warning that her time was drawing near.

 

_“Don’t scare...not you”_ he rasped softly against her. _“Please”_

 

She hesitated a moment, but only a moment. Hearing his sorrow filled voice, watching this monster of a man cling to her like a child, Claudette felt sympathy for this killer. For her killer.

 

She brought a shaky hand up and let it hover by his face for a moment, as if for permission, before placing it on his contorted skin. He instantly leaned into the touch, giving her one final glance, before stepping away from her.

 

_“Come back. Don’t run?”_

 

She wanted to clarify what he was asking, what he expected of her, but then she lost control of her body as the entity pierced her spine and lifted her up into his waiting void.

 

…………………………………………………………..

 

Claudette can’t help but cringe at the memory, no matter how many times she has been hooked, she’d never gotten used to it, an indescribable pain that seems to suck her very being from her.

 

Billy mistakes her reaction for disgust and quickly tries to move away and out of the tub, only for Claudette to throw her arms around him and force him to stay sitting in the now cool water.

 

“Billy...it’s not you...just a bad memory” She tries to assure him. He fidgets in the water, she holds firm, until he eventually settles down.

 

_“No Lies?”_ he questions softly, his insecurity heart wrenchingly obvious

 

“No lies…” She places her hand on his shoulder and begins to softly scratch the skin under the coarse hair “Not for my Billy”.

 

A strange sound caught between a purr and a hacking breath escaped his malformed lips, Claudette knew she had managed to calm him, if only for the moment.

 

At some point he drifts off and when he peels his eyes open again, there is no water in the tub,and his botanist is nowhere in sight. He knows this is The Entity's work.

 

Rising from the cold brass tub, he makes his way to a battered chest in the corner, taking out a clean denim outfit for the night.

 

Everything comes at a price. His family farm, his ebony goddess, a sky that even at night doesn’t grow black.

 

Billy revs his chainsaw as he steps down the creaking stairs and charges into the field. He has to keep up his end of the deal or else he’d lose his home, and his woman, he’d be banished back to the darkness and forgotten.

 

And that just isn’t an option for The Hillbilly.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea just kind of hit me and I had to get it down before it became just another forgotten idea in the back of my mind. I was originally thinking of RPing as Billy but it's not something I've done before, so i settled on this humble piece of fiction. 
> 
> My headcannon is Hillbilly has really sensitive skin and finds baths soothing. 
> 
> All reviews and constructive criticism are welcome, but please be gentle, I'll learn better that way.  
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
